The Head Freak
by snufflesthegrim
Summary: She doesn't know whether to hate him or thank him.


Petunia Dursley didn't know what to feel. She hated change. Therefore, the man who had changed her life should be hated.

But he saved her life. Or so he said.

Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of the freaks.

When Tuny was fourteen, she thought the coot was a great man. He had magic. She did not. He was respected by a hidden world. She was second best to her own sister. He was eveything Tuny strived to be. Special. She even wrote to her idol. Asking, pleading to be accepted into Hogwarts. She should have known back then that freaks only brought suffering.

When Tuny was fifteen, she didn't know whether she liked this Headmaster of Lily's. His school seemed to make her happy. She came back from her magic school, full of energy and new things to show her beloved family. She had wanted to learn everything she could about magic, Petunia remembered. Everything Petunia would never know. If Tuny was ignored in favor of Lily, she shrugged it off, thinking she had th whole rest of the year with their parents. This headmaster was driving a rift between her and her sister, Tuny thought. He made Lils happy, but he was not to be trusted.

When Tuny was seventeen, she hated summer break. Lily this, Lily that. One day, Tuny went out, looking for a job. A normal Muggle job (wasn't that how Lily had called normal citizens? Labeled like simple creatures.) that would get her away from Lily. Beautiful Lily, Smart Lily, Magical Lily, Kind Lily. No one saw the petunia hiding in the shadow of the lily. In the city, Petunia met Vernon. Oh, what a wonderful man! He saw the world like her, a world of normality, where freakishness should be hidden and locked away. The freaks could work their spells on innocent people otherwise. Petunia hated summer break because of Lily's freakishness. (Vernon had taught her that word. She used it as much as possible. Lily always looked at her strangely when she enjoyed it.) And who else but Albus Dumbledore taught the freaks?

When Tuny was twenty-three, she found a letter from Albus Dumbledore in the basket of a baby. Seeing the signature, she wanted to fling it into the fire, watch his communications spiral into smoke and ash just as her own dreams did. But the letter remained in Petunia's hand, crumpling under her sweaty and shaking hands. Liy was dead. Gone. There was so much left to say, and now... That Albus Dumbledore was the cause of her misery, she decided. And now he wanted her to take in Lily's baby boy. She looked at the baby and frowned. She had her own baby to take care of. But he was protecting them, wasn't he? Albus Dumbledore had set up some freakishness to keep her and her precious Vernon and Dudders safe. And for the protection, Petunia had to keep the boy. She looked at the sleeping babe. That couldn't be so difficult, could it?

When Petunia was twenty-four, she hated the wizard with a passion. After Dudley's cries from the next room abated suddenly, she went to investigate. Toys swirled through the air and landed in Dudley's crib as Harry lowered his arm to put them down. Then Petunia saw it. The green eyes, the magic. He would be the Lily to Dudley's Petunia. She could not let that happen again. She explained Harry's magic and the headmaster's warnings to Vernon, and he came up with the most brilliant idea. Keep the freak in the cupboard. Ample room for a child, and would keep the abnormality out of sight. She had married such an intelligent man.

When Petunia was thirty-four, she decided the headmaster wasn't so bad. He had taken Lily from her, in life and death, but he was taking someone else. The freak. Lily's boy would be gone for nine months of the year. He would be learning magic, but some risks must be taken. Petunia could dance for joy, she was so happy. When asked by the boy why she was so happy, she glared at him and he shut up.

When Petunia was forty, Albus Dumbledore sent her a screaming letter. How freakish. The boy started asking questions, too. He thougbt he knew Albus Dumbledore better than her. She knew their type. Freaks, all of them.

When Petunia was forty-one, the boy told her that his headmaster died. Petunia didn't know what to think. He was dead. The one man who had saved her and condemned her her entire life was dead. She simply nodded, turned around, and walked back into the kitchen.

When Petunia was seventy-eight, she departed her body. Dudley had straightened out since that incident with the Dementors almost forty years ago. Reluctant as she was to admit it, the freaks did it. Now his family, her family, surrounded her on the deathbed. She was loved. Vernon had passed seventeen years ago. His eating caught up to him. Petunia was going to see him now. Another man popped into the room. A tall man, with black hair and emerald eyes. Harry Potter. The savior of the freaks. He nodded to her, unseen by the rest, and calmly stood near the edge of the room. Petunia regarded her freak nephew for a long minute. She turned her eyes back to Dudley, finally, and slipped away.

Petunia landed in a bright white place in front of an old man with a long beard and a strange outfit. She knew who this was, despite never having met him. The man who ruined her life. Made her a bitter old hag. Molded her nephew. Changed her son for the better.  
"For what it's worth, freak," she started, "Thank you." Then Petunia Dursley turned away from the twinkling eyes and walked off into an eternity of cleanliness and normality and absolutely no freakishness.

Well, maybe a little.


End file.
